


The Most Annoying Person in the Galaxy...

by karenmcfadyyon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-28
Updated: 2010-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karenmcfadyyon/pseuds/karenmcfadyyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...might actually not be the one you're thinking of</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Annoying Person in the Galaxy...

The Most Annoying Person in the Galaxy

It was the usual scientific sort of mission, no meet and greet, no people, just plain digging in the dirt for the anthro types and Rodney wandering around with a scanning device, practically orgasmic from whatever the hell the readings meant and talking at the same ninety mile an hour speed these guys always used when they were using terms that were obscure and a lot of multisyllabic language.  
   
John just followed along, idly watching Rodney's back and letting the tsunami of enthusiasm roll over him without paying much attention. Rodney, he thought, was still a scientist at heart even though he was doing a damn good job of picking up on the whole SG team thing. Or so Ford said. Since John had never been on an SG team before this, he supposed that was true, and it was certainly true that Rodney was serious about weapons practice and paying attention to Ford when Ford went over procedures.  
   
For all that Ford gave Rodney a hard time, John had noticed that Rodney did pay attention when Ford was doing the military drill, and with much less annoyance than Beckett, for example, did. But then Rodney had been working for the Air Force for several years, which Beckett hadn't, and realizing that now made him look at Rodney in a new light.  
   
Ford had been both regretful and pissed off about Beckett and working with Beckett during that mother of a storm. And although Ford would probably chew his tongue out before admitting it to Rodney, Ford had told John that Rodney really was doing a damn good job and that Beckett had made him appreciate that.  
   
John thought that was all pretty funny, but as far as he was concerned, he liked having Rodney on his team. Sure, sometimes Rodney could be a little high strung, sometimes he could be a pain in the ass, but mostly, mostly he wasn't. Oh missions like this, Rodney was actually a lot of fun, even rattling on about stuff that sometimes made John feel a little dim.

John smiled at Rodney's back as they worked their way through some underbrush; Rodney was rattling on, waving his free hand, and apparently unaware that John hadn't a fucking clue what he was saying.  
   
They had a routine going anyway.

Rodney would go on and on, and then John would demand and get a summary and that was that. He took a look at his own scanner and sure enough, they were still the only serious life readings on board, so he could stay reasonably relaxed and just enjoy hanging with Rodney.  
   
Rodney stopped suddenly and John nearly ran into him. "Find something?" he asked.  
   
"Um," Rodney said and held very still. "There's a bug on my arm."  
   
Oh, for God's sake. He looked, and Rodney was right, and it was a fairly good sized bug, but ordinary looking, not like a giant Wraith tick monster sitting right there on Rodney's bare arm. "It's a bug, McKay."  
   
"Well, I'd rather not piss it off, Major," Rodney said and his voice was a little strained.   
   
John sighed inwardly. It wasn't a bee, it looked nothing at all like a bee or any of the family of Hymenoptera as detailed for him by Rodney during one memorable discussion. "Okay, hang on, let me get it off."  
   
"No, no, just give it a minute." Rodney's voice was strained.  
   
They stood there, watching the thing. John sighed inwardly and carefully brushed it off.  
   
"Ow," Rodney said, startled.  
   
He frowned. "Ow? I just knocked it off."   
   
"It—" Rodney held his arm up and peered at it. "I think it bit me."  
   
"It didn't bite you," John said patiently, "I didn't even see a stinger, so I'm pretty sure it didn't sting you either."  
   
"What's that red mark, then?"  
   
John peered at it. He had a point. "Well, it's an alien bug," he finally said, "Maybe it didn't look like a stinger." He eyed Rodney worriedly. "You feeling all right?"  
   
"Maybe it was like a mosquito," Rodney said and looked at his scanner again. "I'm okay." He sounded relieved, more than anything, which gave John a guilt pang for his impatience.   
   
John actually had seen somebody have a reaction to a bee-sting and it sure wasn't anything he wanted to see Rodney go through. He just wished Rodney would get over that certain doom response to everything. "Good. Which way?"   
   
Rodney pointed and they trudged on, pushing branches aside and ducking under them and then Rodney yelped and stopped again.  
   
"What?" John asked, a little annoyed and trying not to be.  
   
"Ow," Rodney had his free hand on the back of his neck. "Jesus, we've got to get out of these trees.  
   
"Let me have a look," John said and didn't add the words on the tip of his tongue: 'you big baby'.   
   
"Oh," Rodney said, his tone odd, and lifted his hand.  
   
There was a very dead bug on the back of his neck, but it wasn't the same kind, John decided after a moment, his annoyance utterly replaced by worry again. For one thing, the sting or bite or whatever the fuck it was, had already gone alarmingly red, and was starting to puff up. "McKay?" he asked worriedly and took hold of Rodney's shoulder. "You okay?"   
   
Rodney's expression was a little panicked. "No."  
   
"You've got one of those whatsis?" John couldn't think of the name of the damn things for a minute, and that welt on the back of Rodney's neck was rising like fucking crazy and it was just a little scary. Okay, it was a lot scary.  
   
To Rodney, too; Rodney was patting his pockets frantically. "I always carry one with me," he said and looked at John, eyes wide. "Always, and it's usually in this pocket, and I never forget, but it's not here." Very panicky now.  
   
John could relate. He could feel panic starting to slither around *his* gut and keyed his radio. "Ford, get on the radio and tell Beckett we've got a medical emergency, Rodney got stung by something and it's not looking good."  
   
"I'm on it," Ford came back.  
   
"Major, I have Dr. McKay's extra kit." Teyla's voice was calm, even with the crackle of static. "I am on my way."  
   
Thank God. "We're heading back toward you." He took hold of Rodney and turned him back the way they'd come.   
   
"I don't think I should be moving around a lot," Rodney said faintly and pulled at his collar. "I need to make sure the stinger's out."  
   
He glanced sidelong, was appalled at the way Rodney looked and at the way Rodney was breathing. "Okay, okay, hang on." He tugged Rodney into a shaft of sunlight, leaned up, and looked at the site closely; it was too swollen to tell for certain, but he was pretty sure there wasn't an actual stinger. "I don't see anything."  
   
"Okay." Raspy, wheezing voice, really scary, and Rodney was starting to have trouble breathing.

Now John was trying hard not to panic, and he couldn't believe it

Pilots didn't panic. Air Force majors weren't supposed to panic and neither were Atlantis SG team leaders. "Okay, let's go." He held on to Rodney, steadied him.

He heard sounds ahead of them, raised his weapon, and then lowered it as Teyla came into view, running as fleet as any deer and directly for them. "Hang in there, Rodney, here she comes."  
   
Rodney pulled at his collar again and he was definitely wheezing; his entire face looked swollen, and he was splotchy and the whole wheezing thing was scary as hell.  
   
Teyla had something in her hand and as she came toward them, he saw her toss something away and come at Rodney as if she planned on stabbing him; two more steps and she did, actually, stab the thing into his thigh on the left side, as straight and true as if she'd practiced.   
   
Rodney wheezed, but stayed on his feet; John steadied him, and Rodney's breathing seemed to ease up a little after a few minutes.  
   
John and Teyla watched, concerned, and John was still holding on to Rodney, afraid to let go. Teyla still had the damn Epipen still in her hand. "McKay?" John asked.  
   
"I'm better," Rodney wheezed. "Better."

"Thank God," John said. Teyla looked as relieved as John felt.

His radio crackled again. "Major, Doc says use the Epipen and get him back ASAP," Ford told them.  
   
John rolled his eyes at Teyla, who half-smiled. "Tell him we're on our way. You guys keep an eye on the rest of the crew, I won't be gone long."  
   
"Roger that," Ford said.  
   
John studied Rodney. "You okay?" Rodney was breathing better, noticeably better, but he was shaking like a fucking leaf.  
   
Rodney nodded. "Better," he repeated and looked at Teyla. "Thank you."  
   
Teyla gave him that grave smile of hers. "I am very glad you asked me to carry your extra medicine, McKay."  
   
So, John thought fervently, was he.  
   
   
Beckett was displeased. "You always keep one in your vest," he said sharply and looked at John. "What happened to it?"  
   
John opened his mouth and closed it, looked at Rodney, who was sitting up on the examination table and still looking pretty damned awful and weirdly fragile.  
   
"I don't know," Rodney said weakly. "We geared up in the ready room, but I keep my gear in my quarters."  
   
Beckett's look was so damned disapproving and suspicious that John bristled. "You think someone took it out of his vest?" He couldn't keep his voice from rising. "Doc, everybody knows he carries that, everybody knows he needs it, nobody would have taken it out."  
   
Beckett shook his head impatiently. "That's not what I mean, Major, but if someone was meddling with his vest and didn't realize what it was, they might have taken it out. And, we don't have an unlimited supply until we can get back in contact with Earth, I'd rather not lose any."  
   
"I could have dropped it somewhere," Rodney said, his eyelids drooping. At least they weren't so damned puffed up, John thought, but Beckett had shot Rodney full of antihistamine, apparently. "Carson, it'll turn up, I'm just glad I had Teyla hold an extra one for me in case."  
   
"Aye." Beckett gave John a long level look before turning back to Rodney. "Rodney, I'd like you to stay here a few hours, just to be on the safe side."  
   
Rodney nodded and got down from the table, let Beckett guide him toward one of the empty beds.   
   
Weir arrived then, a little out of breath. "Medical emergency?"  
   
"Insect sting," John told her shortly. "And McKay didn't have his Epipen in his vest. Teyla carries an extra for him, thank God." He wished he'd thought of it.  
   
"Really." Weir looked over to where Rodney was sitting on a bed and taking off his shoes. "He looks terrible."  
   
"He had me pretty worried for a minute," John admitted. "Teyla came through, though." He frowned. "I don't think it's a good idea for him to go back, though. Maybe Zelenka?"  
   
"I'll talk to Dr. Zelenka." Weir looked sidelong at him. "Does that mean you want him off the team?"  
   
Startled, John shook his head. "No, Jesus, I just don't want him dying from a damn bug bite on me, and we know now that he definitely is allergic to this variety."  
   
Weir nodded. "Just checking. He's going to be disappointed."  
   
"I dunno about that, McKay's got a strong sense of self-preservation." He said it drily, humourously, and was surprised at her expression. "What?"  
   
She shook her head. "Nothing."  
   
John immediately felt sure there was something. "No, really."  
   
Weir's smile was wry. "You didn't think an insect sting could kill him, either, did you?"  
   
John wasn't sure what that meant, but he had to admit, he'd been thinking Rodney was unnecessarily high strung about it until today. "I didn't disbelieve him, if that's what you mean." He tried to say it evenly, but he sounded a little heated, he thought.  
   
"Of course not," she said quickly. "That's not what I meant."  
   
John wanted to pursue it, but his team was still on another world. "I'm just going to check he's okay, break the news to him. You want to talk to Zelenka about going back with me?"  
   
Weir nodded. "I'll brief him."  
   
"Thanks." John walked over to where Rodney was lying, a light blanket over him, his eyelids undeniably heavy now. "Hey, how are you feeling?"  
   
"Better," Rodney said and looked at him. "Thanks."  
   
"You're welcome," John told him, then, "Listen, I don't think that's a good jungle for you to be in, I talked to Weir about letting you rest and taking Zelenka back, letting him track down those power sources you thought were there."  
   
Rodney looked at him and his expression went blank. "Oh. Of course, that makes sense."   
   
Rodney's tone was perfectly normal, but John found himself wondering what was going on in that brain. "Yeah, we don't want any more close shaves like that today," he said, a little too heartily, more to cover up the tag end of his own nerves than anything else.   
   
Rodney nodded again, this time not looking at him. "After all, we know I'm allergic to whatever it was that bit me and we know it's indigenous to that planet."  
   
"Exactly," John said, relieved, and patted Rodney's leg through the blanket, unable to prevent himself. Hell, he needed the reassurance. He'd gotten used to thinking of Rodney as practically indestructible in spite of his nerves. "So, we'll make Zelenka do the grunt work on this one."  
   
Rodney closed his eyes. "Good idea."  
   
John hesitated for a moment, uneasy for no reason he could define. "Are you supposed to go to sleep?"  
   
Rodney opened his eyes again. "You're thinking of head injuries, Major."  
   
Oh, yeah. Jesus, John thought, he had to stop hovering. "Okay. Well, I'll check on you when I get back, okay, and have Zelenka come by and brief you."  
   
"Thank you." Rodney closed his eyes again.  
   
Feeling oddly out of sorts and as if he'd missed something important, John left.  
   
   
Zelenka was both excited and disappointed to discover that Rodney's energy sources were natural ore of some kind, and Zelenka was fairly certain that it was, if not actually naquadah, very, very similar and might be adapted. That discovery kept Zelenka busy for their remaining time on the planet.   
   
Fortunately, that remaining time was uneventful. When they'd returned to the jumper bay at the end of the other planetary day, John tipped a look back at Teyla. "In case I forgot to say it, thanks for getting there so fast today."  
   
Teyla inclined her head in that graceful way she had.  
   
Ford blinked at him. "Was it that bad?"  
   
"It was getting there," John told him and pressed the control to open the rear jumper hatch for the anthro geeks and Zelenka. "Like in seconds."  
   
Ford arched. "That must have been a little scary."  
   
"A lot scary," John said fervently. "Teyla saved his ass, believe me."  
   
Ford nodded and rose. "I gotta admit, I thought some of that was just, you know, McKay making noise."    
   
"Doctor Beckett would surely not give him medicine if it were exaggeration," Teyla said, gentle reproof.  
   
Ford winced. "Yeah, I guess I didn't realize he had.""  
   
"Ah," Teyla said, "Dr. McKay said nothing of it to you, then."  
   
"He's mentioned it," John said and looked at her directly. "But I didn't know that Doc recommended we have extras on hand for emergencies. And he should have told me. I'm the team leader, I need to know these things."  
   
Teyla nodded and stood up. "Well, perhaps he feared that you, too, would think he was exaggerating."  
   
Ouch. Nothing like a strong left hook to the solar plexus, John thought, and shut the jumper down.

The debriefing went longer than he'd hoped, with everyone vying to discuss what they'd found, but it was finally over, with action items assigned to various members of the scientific team and Zelenka went off happily to tell his department about the discovery.  
   
"So how's Rodney?" John asked, still seated.   
   
"He's still in the infirmary," Weir said and sighed. "He's had another reaction. Dr. Beckett indicated that this wasn't all that unusual, but it was still fairly alarming."  
   
"Another reaction?" John stood up, alarmed. "Jesus, how? Why?"  
   
"It's a secondary response, evidently," Weir said and rubbed her forehead. "He's doing better this evening."  
   
"I'll swing by," John said and headed for the door.  
   
"Major," Weir said, "I think maybe you shouldn't."  
   
John turned to look at her, frowned. "He's not allowed to have visitors? I thought you said he was doing better?"  
   
Weir looked as if she were trying to decide something. "He's asked to be taken off the team."  
   
Okay, second punch to the solar plexus. "What? Did he say why?" John thought back, tried to figure out why Rodney would want off the team.   
   
"No." Weir folded her hands. "I thought perhaps you might have some idea."  
   
"Well, I don't." John was angry suddenly. "But I'm going to find out."  
   
"Major," she said, her tone a warning.  
   
John ignored it, headed out of the briefing room and toward the infirmary.  
   
Beckett tried to intercept him, but was too far away. John yanked the curtain away from Rodney's bed—at least he hoped it was Rodney's bed—and then froze in place.

It was Rodney's bed, all right. Rodney was asleep and looked…well, horrible. There was an IV in his arm, and a cannula underneath his nose.  
   
Except for the residual puffiness, Rodney looked almost frail and that fact in itself felt very scary.

"Major." Beckett's voice was very soft and very furious. "Dinna wake him up."  
   
"What the hell happened?" John kept his voice low. "He looked better earlier!"  
   
"He had a biphasic reaction," Beckett said and beckoned him away.  
   
John followed Beckett to the other side of the room, folded his arms, and let Beckett have the full force of his anger and worry. "Okay, explain this to me. When I left, he didn't look great, but now he looks like he's fucking dying."  
   
Beckett rolled his eyes. "He's not dying, he's really doing very well, considering he was bitten by something alien."  
   
"What happened?" John was still really angry, but didn't know why or at whom. "And why the hell did he decide he wanted off the team? Did you tell him he should quit?"  
   
Beckett's expression, building toward temper, went to confusion. "He decided he wanted off the team?"  
   
"That's what Weir said." John frowned. "I wonder if he's worried about this happening again." If that was the case, well, maybe he could understand it, Rodney being Rodney and therefore a total pessimist  
   
"Possibly." Beckett studied him. "Come into my office, Major."  
   
John frowned, looked back, and then followed again. Beckett pushed a chair his way and sat down behind his desk, waiting until John had seated himself. "Major, Rodney has discussed his allergies with you, hasn't he?"  
   
"Yeah." John looked at him. "Why?"  
   
"Has he discussed their severity?" It was obvious Beckett was trying to decide whether or not to talk to him.  
   
"Yes," John said, lying like a rug, since honestly, he generally listened enough to make sure Rodney was overreacting before tuning him out, and Rodney wasn't about to seriously discuss these things with him. "Like the lemon thing could kill him. And he's allergic to bee stings."  
   
Beckett sighed. "Actually, any citrus can kill him. Bee stings, as you know, back on Earth and evidently some insects here in Pegasus. Certain types of shellfish, back on Earth, strawberries, nuts. Pollens don't usually cause that kind of reaction for him, although he does have to take antihistamines."  
   
John considered that, mildly horrified. "All that? Anything else?"  
   
"Surprisingly, no." Beckett looked at his hands. "Major, I know Rodney can be…difficult at times."  
   
"No, he's not difficult, he's just…himself." John frowned again. Sure, Rodney had moments that made John long to strangle him, but that was just temper on both sides, usually. Or Rodney's damn Spockian Good of the Many thinking, or the way he had of trying to explain to the dim when John had already caught up to him. He didn't even hold the latter against Rodney because he knew what that was about. Rodney was too damned smart to pass for normal, as he'd been able to do.  
   
Beckett's mouth quirked. "Well, he's unique."  
   
There was no denying that. "Yeah," John agreed. "And?"  
   
Beckett appeared to come to a decision. "When he's driving me mad, I remind myself that the man has spent and still spends most of his days not knowing if something innocuous will kill him, and is therefore entitled to be a wee bit irritable, among other things."  
   
John opened his mouth and then it hit him, hit hard in a visceral, first time realization sort of way.

Imagine not knowing if something innocuous would kill him, he told himself and tried to imagine sitting down to breakfast and finding out the hard way that the juice in his glass was deadly, and that was a little unsettling, to say the least.

"Good point." He tried to imagine not knowing which foods served at, say, a party could kill him, tried to imagine himself trying to figure out if there was any pecan or walnut in something as common as a cookie. Or a cracker. Bee stings, that didn't seem too awful, not like it affected every aspect of daily life, and even lemons could be avoided, but all citrus? Or—rocked, he looked up at Beckett. "The hypoglycemic thing, is that as bad?"  
   
"As the allergies?" Beckett blinked. "It's very unlikely that would kill him under most circumstances I could foresee. Of course, if it was really severe—you do know the symptoms of hypoglycemia, don't you, major?"  
   
"Hunger," John said, frantically racking his brain before Beckett shut up. "Irritability. Um, confusion."  
   
Beckett looked pleasantly surprised. "Very good, major. Hunger, of course, anxiety, irritability, light-headedness, sleepiness, or confusion. In severe cases, it can even cause seizures."  
   
John felt faintly queasy. Hunger, anxiety, irritability, three of Rodney's most prominent characteristics, and all this time—that certain doom response was starting to look a lot more understandable. "Seizures?" he repeated, appalled. "So Doc, what do we need to know about that?"  
   
Beckett shook his head. "Oh, that's very unlikely. Rodney's an adult, he's been managing his health issues very well for many years." He smiled at John, presumably in reassurance. "Nothing you need worry about."  
   
John was already worried. "But is there anything we need to keep in the jumper or in our vests for him?"  
   
"Just the Epipens," Beckett said kindly. "That's good enough. But I want to find out what happened to Rodney's, and if you don't mind, Major, I don't think it would be a bad thing to have extra with you."  
   
"No, it wouldn't be. And I'm going to find out what happened to that damn Epipen." John rose. "I, uh, I'm just going to have a quick look at him, Doc, if that's okay. Just want to let him know what Zelenka found."  
   
Beckett looked surprised again.

John supposed he ought to feel offended, but couldn't, not when it looked as though he'd been underestimating things.

But Beckett got up. "Well, let's have a look at him."  
   
Rodney stirred when Beckett checked the monitors, stirred, and squinted through swollen eyelids. "Carson?"  
   
"It's me," Beckett confirmed. "Major Sheppard came by to see how you were doing and to let you know what Dr. Zelenka found."  
   
Rodney's head turned. "Oh." Faintly. "Hello, Major."  
   
"Hey," John said and put his hands on the bed rail. Rodney looked so damn terrible, it made his throat tighten up. "You feeling any better?"  
   
"I guess so." Rodney sounded pretty groggy. "Did everything go well?"  
   
"Well, yeah, I know Zelenka will give you the details, but those readings were coming from some kind of ore that's got him pretty excited.  
   
"Naquadah?" Rodney blinked at him.  
   
"He wasn't sure, but if it's not, it was damn close. " John nodded encouragingly.   
   
Rodney did look encouraged, at least for a moment. "That's excellent," he told John fuzzily.  
   
Beckett nodded at him. "You're looking good, Rodney. How's the chest feeling?"  
   
"Okay," Rodney said and blinked at him. "Maybe a little wheezing."  
   
John's throat ached for real. The most innocuous thing, he thought and no wonder Rodney was impatient and cranky and scared to death half the time. No wonder he liked being able to fly the jumper and run around as part of the team. And hell if he didn't deserve to be there, no matter how much they kidded him; he'd saved their asses more than once.   
   
"I'll have Glynis bring you some ice water, then," Beckett was saying. "I think you'll be fine tomorrow." He patted Rodney's shoulder, nodded at John. "Major. Don't tire him out."  
   
"I'll try not to," John said honestly and waited until Beckett had gone to the other side of the room. "Hey," he said and tried to choose words that wouldn't immediately piss Rodney off. "Hey, Weir said something weird about you wanting off the team, what's that about? It's not true, is it?"  
   
For a moment, he thought he'd chosen badly, Rodney's jaw tightened, but then Rodney looked at him, frowned a little. "It's probably best," Rodney said quietly. "I'm not exactly fit, am I? I thought she'd accept it if it came from me and you wouldn't have to ask."  
   
John stared. "I—Rodney, what the hell are you talking about? Why the hell would I ask her to take you off the team?"

Rodney just looked at him. "It's perfectly understandable if you don't want to have to worry about this happening again," he said and fumbled unsuccessfully for the control for the bed.

"Are you nuts?" John asked heatedly, and cursed his temper when Rodney's expression went shuttered. "Okay, sorry, that was rude. But come on, Rodney. How many missions has our team had, anyway?"  
   
Rodney's frown deepened. "I don't know."  
   
"Well, neither do I for sure, but I know Weir could tell us, and if it's not more than fifty, I'll be shocked. How many times have I gotten hurt?"  
   
"A few," Rodney said rustily. "But Major, you know very well, this isn't the same—"  
   
"Hell it's not," John said rudely. "Are you cutting out on us, Rodney? If that's what you want, hell, I can't blame you, it's not exactly safe, but I expect you to tell me yourself." He hoped, oh, he hoped, and Rodney's expression wasn't informative.  
   
Rodney frowned at him again. "Are you telling me you still want me on the team?"  
   
Jesus, John thought, irritated and horrified at the same time. "Why wouldn't I?" he demanded.  
   
They stared at each other for a moment and Rodney surrendered. "Okay. Never mind."  
   
"Good." Relieved, John reached out, patted Rodney's knee through the blanket. "So just take it easy and get well, okay? We need you back." That got John a skeptical look for his pains, but he ignored it. "Can I get you anything?"  
   
"No, I'm fine." Rodney fumbled for the bed control and John reached out, snagged it for him. "Thanks."  
   
"You're welcome." John hesitated. "And just so you know, even Ford thinks you do a damn good job for a civilian."  
   
Rodney frowned at him. "Major, there's no need for exaggeration."  
   
John frowned back, offended. "Rodney, in your experience, am I prone to exaggeration?"  
   
Rodney kept frowning for another moment before giving it up. "No, I suppose you're not." Wearily.   
   
The weariness made John's throat tighten again. "And I'm not now. Anyway, if you need anything while you're stuck here, let me know. I'll swing by later, check in with you."  
   
"That's not nec—"  
   
"Rodney."  
   
They looked at each other for a long moment, and John wondered how the hell things had gotten fucked up and what the hell to do about it.

He and Rodney always got along pretty damn well, even if they ragged on each other a lot of the time, and Rodney never held back in the least. They were probably 180 degrees from each other in terms of personality, but hell if he didn't think they had a lot of fun what times they weren't running from the Wraith or dangerous storms or what the hell ever else might be going on.   
   
Rodney finally smiled, but it was just the ghost of a smile. "Okay, thank you, then."  
   
That was better. John thought, or at least he hoped so. He smiled back. "Good deal."  
   
The nurse, Glynis, came in and twinkled at John while setting Rodney's ice water on the table beside the bed. "Take good care of him," John told her, patted Rodney's leg again and left.  
   
It wasn't until after John had eaten something for dinner that he remembered Teyla's comment and went to look for her. He found her in her own quarters, and she listened gravely to his embarrassed question about how she had come to have an extra kit for Rodney.

"It was after we returned from your misadventure with the Wraith survivor," Teyla told him, "Although I am not entirely sure what made him think of it. He brought me the kit and explained its use carefully and asked me to carry it for him. I agreed."

"You didn't think you should say anything to me about it?" John could hear the aggrieved tone in his voice, tried to modulate it. "That's kind of a big deal, don't you think?"

Teyla arched an eyebrow. "I have heard Dr. McKay make mention of his, ah, allergies before while on missions, as well as here in the city, so surely you were aware."

Well, what the hell was John supposed to say to that? "No, I mean the need for extra medication," he said, a little plaintively. "I just talked to Dr. Beckett, he said it wouldn't hurt if we had a couple of extras."

"Ah," Teyla said, "I had thought one extra might be sufficient, and Dr. McKay seemed to feel this was so."

"Well, if he does raise any issues like this again, Teyla, please let me know. We're all members of the same team, I don't want him to feel like he can't ask Ford or me, okay?" John felt irritated and ashamed and a lot like he hadn't been a very good leader or even a halfway decent friend if Rodney didn't feel like he could be approached.

"Of course," she said. "I spoke with him this evening, and I was concerned, but Dr. Beckett says that the second reaction was not completely unexpected."

"Yeah, he said." John sighed. "Thanks. I'm going to swing by and see if he needs anything."

"That would be a kindness," Teyla said mildly. "I am sure he would enjoy the distraction from discomfort."

Things just kept getting better and better, John thought glumly. Somehow, he'd fouled things up if even Teyla didn't expect him to treat Rodney decently.

Rodney had a visitor when John arrived; Zelenka was sitting beside the bed with a lap top and they were both gesturing and talking right up to the point John arrived.

Rodney actually looked a little better, although his face still looked puffy and Beckett still had him using the cannula. "Hey," John said cheerfully, relieved to see it. "Are you feeling better?"

They both looked at him.

"Uh, yes." Rodney blinked at him, his expression puzzled. "I'm, uh, doing better, yes."

"Major Sheppard was very concerned," Zelenka said and if John wasn't seeing things, Zelenka's expression was ironic.

Crap, that meant Zelenka had probably caught some of the less than charitable things the military members of the team had said about Rodney on occasion.

"Yes," John said quellingly, "I am, but Rodney knows that, I brought him back here to see Dr. Beckett."

Rodney looked from Zelenka to John, clearly still puzzled. "Did you need something, Major?"

John resisted the urge to snap; it wasn't Rodney's fault. "No, I just stopped by to see how you were doing, make sure they were feeding you right."

Rodney looked at him, baffled. "Feeding me right?"

"Yeah, you know, supper? Snacks?" John gestured. "Feeding you."

Rodney's eyebrows drew together. "They fed me fine."

Suddenly, John realized he was making things worse. Well, Jesus, he'd ragged enough on Rodney's eating habits, he supposed, and that made him feel ashamed again, thinking of his discussion with Beckett. "Well, just in case you wanted anything, I could swing by the mess hall and pick something up."

Rodney stared at him. "Thanks." Clearly baffled and still wary.

What the hell was wrong? John excused himself so Rodney and Zelenka could finish their scientific enthusiasm, but his annoyance with the entire situation didn't ease up until he'd gotten a good night's sleep.

 

In the morning, John gave orders with regard to the missing Epipen. Corporal Penny Suarez found it in the afternoon under a set of shelves in the armory where it had apparently rolled. No one seemed to know how it had gotten there, but since the ready room was right off the armory, it seemed possible that it might have gotten kicked from one room to the other.

In the event that interpretation was too Pollyanna, John had Ford assemble everybody in the ready room. "You guys know what this is?" he asked the assembled troops.

Most faces looked blank. Markham, Stackhouse, Bates, and a few others nodded.

"'It's called an Epipen. For people with life-threatening allergies, it's a lifesaver. " John let his gaze move around the room. "Dr. McKay's got some life-threatening allergies, like to bee stings. Anybody ever seen somebody allergic to bee stings get stung?"

A couple of nods again, same faces, except Markham and Stackhouse and Bates, who knew what the Epipen was because they knew Rodney. "Dr. McKay got stung by something yesterday. This disappeared from his vest before our mission yesterday. He thinks he lost it. I need to make clear to everyone that if you find one of these, you check with me to see if it's one of his."

"Sir," Markham said, frowning a little. "You think somebody took it?"

"No, I don't," John said. "I'm just giving everybody a head's up on this. You people who've seen somebody go through that know what I mean; it's scary as hell, and not just to the person who got stung. I could have done CPR from the planet to the jumper bay, and it wouldn't have done Dr. McKay a damn bit of good because his airway would have been swollen shut. You see one of these lying around somewhere, you see me."

Markham's frown eased and he nodded.

A lot of solemn faces looked back at John. He didn't detect anything that felt off, and that made sense; the people here had all gone through one helluva lot of testing before coming here, it wasn't all that likely they had any homicidal types lurking. But he felt better for having located the damn Epipen and went back to infirmary to let Beckett know.

Rodney was scowling at his laptop when John looked in on him. "Hey," John said, "Found the missing Epipen."

Rodney looked over the laptop screen at him. "Where was it?"

"Under some shelves in the armory." John leaned against the foot of the bed.

Rodney frowned. "Oh. It must have fallen out of my vest in the ready room."

"That's what I figure," John said. "So, how are you feeling? Doc say when he's going to cut you loose?"

"Today," Rodney said and looked back at his laptop. "Thank God."

"Good deal," John said, genuinely pleased. Rodney still looked a little on the peaky side, but Beckett was generally pretty cautious, so he had to be good. "I talked to Beckett about carrying some extra Epipens, just in case, so we don't end up having to wait if it happens again."

"You what?" Rodney didn't look entirely pleased. "Was this his idea or yours?"

"I brought it up," John said, "When I came back that even, you were looking pretty bad, that secondary reaction, so he answered some questions for me."

Rodney just looked at him, that unreadable expression that Rodney got once in a while, but which usually wasn't a good sign. "I see."

Instinct told him there was definitely something wrong. "Look, he didn't say much, Rodney, he didn't discuss anything private, it was just, you know, that was a little scary, there wasn't anything I could do to help you, and you were looking a little ragged, so he answered some basic questions."

"Ragged," Rodney repeated and laughed shortly. "Oh, that wasn't much, you should see what happens with a good old fashioned Earth bee, Major."

Okay, that was a weird reaction, John thought. "Worse?"

"Much." Rodney started typing again.

John considered this. "I think I'm glad I wasn't there to see that," he said tentatively.

Rodney didn't look up. "No doubt."

Okay, maybe Rodney was just cranky because he still wasn't feeling 100 percent. So, you need anything from your quarters?"

"No, thank you." Rodney still didn't look up.

"Okay." John wasn't sure he was on the right track, but what the hell, Rodney usually just let him have it, and he counted on that, and having Rodney go non-communicative made him nervous. "You, uh, upset with me about something?"

Rodney looked up at him. "Yes."

That was a start. "Why?"

Rodney's mouth quirked downward. "Because if you're not comfortable with me on the team, you should just say so instead of talking to Beckett behind my back."

Whoa. "What the hell? If I wasn't comfortable with you on the team, I would say so, Rodney. What the fuck does that mean?"

Rodney studied him. "So why talk to Beckett? Why not ask me?"

"You were a little under the weather," John said hotly. "And he didn't want me to wake you up anyway, he was pissed I was there."

Rodney looked at him for a long moment. "So you asked him about my allergies."

Rodney's expression reminded him that it wasn't as if Rodney hadn't mentioned them before, on more than one occasion. John swallowed, thinking hard. "I asked him if there was anything else we could do to minimize the risk," he said, feeling like he was in the wrong and resenting it a little. "Believe me, Rodney, watching you go through that is a helluva lot different than knowing you could have a bad reaction."

Rodney frowned. "I see."

John hoped Rodney did. "So are we clear?"

"We're clear." Rodney looked back at his laptop.

John hesitated. "Okay, good."

"You don't have to worry about my allergies, Major, I can take care of them. I had an extra with Teyla, and that worked just fine." Rodney looked up at him. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of the actual crisis myself, as you can see."

Rodney really was pissed. "Look, I wasn't trying to invade your privacy, Rodney, I was just—I mean, I'm the team leader, I was just looking out for you."

"Looking out for me?" Rodney's brows drew together. "That's an interesting change."

John's jaw dropped. "I look out for you all the time!"

"Not in this universe," Rodney snapped. "Maybe in a parallel universe."

"The hell!"

"Let me think, you left Teyla and me both with the Genii as hostages, didn't you?"

"You knew I was coming back!" Outraged, John let his voice rise, tried to modulate it when Beckett came out of his office.

"You've joked about me passing out from low blood sugar," Rodney said evenly, "And when we had trouble with the ZedPM on the planet with the kids, you automatically assumed I'd done something wrong, when the T'an took offense to me and Markham outside the temple, you assumed I'd done something to offend them, and when I've had to eat something for my blood sugar, you've had a field day with jokes about that. Including when I described the energy sucking darkness as thinking only about eating, you very courteously told me I should know. And, of course, when I was quite accurately pointing out that Chaya or Athar or whoever the hell she is, wasn't what she was pretending to be, you were pretty damned angry and not just a little bit belligerent. So forgive me if I missed that whole team leader looking out for me thing."

Dumbfounded, John opened his mouth. Closed it. Finally gathered his wits to say, "Rodney, I know—that's just the way we do things in the military, you get used to ragging on your friends, but it's not, I mean, it's just—" He looked at Rodney's unamused expression. "You always give back as much as I give you, I thought we were just having fun."

Rodney's eyes were…almost amused, but not in a good way. "Oh, yes, I had lots of fun like that all through high school and my undergraduate years."

"I thought we were friends," John said, feeling a little aggrieved. "I mean, Jesus, Rodney, if it made you mad, you should have told me. You don't usually hold back on things like that."

Rodney's look was dismissive. "It wasn't worth it, but you asked."

John was appalled and felt wounded, and saddened and a little mad. "Well, next time, I'd appreciate it if you'd just tell me. I mean, Jesus, Rodney, you're so straightforward, I never would have realized because you never said."

"Now I've said." Rodney's mouth quirked again.

John wasn't sure what to say. "Rodney, I—you have to know I respect you, right? And we're friends."

Rodney's expression wasn't any too promising. "If you say so."

That hurt. A great deal. And the worst part of it was that John had already had some warnings from what Teyla had said. "I say so," he said, trying to control his temper. "And yeah, I am looking out for you."

"Fine," Rodney said. "If you wouldn't mind, I'm in the middle of something here, so perhaps you could look out for me from elsewhere."

"Sure." He definitely felt wounded. "Um, I'll see you later then, once Doc cuts you free."

Rodney returned to typing. "All right."

After a moment, John did leave, and there was this weird hollow feeling in his chest.

He finally decided to talk to Ford about it later that evening, after he still hadn't seen Rodney. "Hey, Lieutenant, I need you to tell me something honestly and don't hold back. Do you think I needle McKay a little too much?"

Ford gave him a startled look. "Well, you kind of needle each other, sir, so I can't say."

John considered that, shoveled up a bite of whatever the mystery meat was. "Do I start it?"

Ford glanced at Teyla, then at him. "Well, sometimes, sir. Like when you're letting him fly the jumper."

That stung more than a little bit. "Oh."

"It's not bad, sir, it's just the way you usually go after each other," Ford hastened to add. "But yeah, sometimes I have to say, when he's getting in his flight time, it does seem like you might be a little hard on him." Tentative grin. "I get that he needs it, but he's kind of like a kid, so damn excited to be able to do it."

"I'll have to think about how to handle that better," John said and took another bite. "I mean, he does need instruction, but there's no need for me to be a jerk about it."

"He's not military," Ford said, nodding.

The worst thing was that John understood what Ford meant. It made his face go hot, and he felt guilty, which made him irritable.

Still, when he saw Rodney the next day, Rodney seemed pretty Rodney, if a little sharper and more acidic than usual.

John let that be for a few days because, frankly, he wasn't sure what to do about it beyond apologizing for offending Rodney and he'd tried to do that in the infirmary.

The tension remained and Rodney was more prickly than usual, even if John was trying hard to watch his mouth.

The tension came to a head on the fourth day on another one of the usual scientific sorts of missions wherein there were two teams and a lot of scientists, and when Rodney wandered off, following his nose or whatever, John followed him.

The planet itself was a damned wasteland. John wondered if the Wraith had scoured this world, too, and hoped if they had, they weren't anywhere near. The wind blew mournfully and steadily and there was dust damn near everywhere, including John's teeth. It worked his nerves and he felt like he was listening to fingernails scraping on blackboard—the sound wasn't the same, but the sensations were, and his temper was on a hair-trigger.

It didn't help his temper to have Rodney blithely hare off on his own. Trailing Rodney was a little trickier when Rodney didn't know John was there, but he could just consider it a challenge. Or not, since he became pretty sure he'd have to knock Rodney down before Rodney noticed him.

"Rodney," he finally called, unreasonably angry that Rodney wasn't taking even the most elementary safety precautions. "Remember that training Ford gave you? You're supposed to be *using* it!"

Rodney whirled on him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

It looked like John wasn't the only one whose temper was hair-triggered. Perversely, it made him angrier. "It means I've been behind you all the way and you haven't once checked your six, you haven't checked the area ahead of you before strolling forward, and you're not even holding your damn weapon." He trotted up to Rodney and glared at him.

"I've got my damn weapon," Rodney said and patted his holster to prove it.

"But you're not carrying it, Rodney, and we haven't surveyed everything here yet."

"And you're the team leader just looking out for his team member, right?" Rodney said sarcastically.

"Right," John snarled. "That's my job, Rodney. Even if you don't want to follow orders, I'm still the team leader, and I sure as hell don't want you getting hurt on my watch."

"Oh, right." Rodney snorted and looked back at his scanner.

"Rodney," John said, riding the edge of an angry outburst. If only that fucking wind and sand would stop, he could get a breath and step back.

"Look, Major," Rodney said, in that snotty tone of voice that made John want to grind his teeth. "I get it, okay? You've proven that you're a decent human being, you're sorry you thought I was just a complete hypochondriac, so whatever Elizabeth told you to do, just get over it. Try and get back to normal, will you, because you're really getting on my nerves." Rodney didn't even raise his eyes from the scanner to look at John, and that was even more maddening.

John stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You don't have to be so goddamn nice to me," Rodney snapped. "You can stop worrying about me, just go the fuck away, and let me do my job."

"Nice to you? When have I ever been nice to you?" Which was one of the most idiotic things John had ever regretted saying as soon as the words passed his lips, but Rodney had a way of doing that to him. As if the wind knew how pissed off John was, it threw another blast of dust at him and tugged at his jacket. "Why do you have to be such an asshole, Rodney?"

Rodney did that thing with his chin that drove John nuts. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because I am one? I'm not twelve years old and misunderstood, Major, I'm who I am, so you don't have to be the good Boy Scout or the captain of the football team or whatever the fuck you're playing at. I prefer honest dislike to whatever it is you're trying to sell me."

John hadn't the vaguest fucking clue what Rodney was ranting about. "Sell you?" He and Rodney were nose to nose. "Sell you? What the hell are you talking about, Rodney?"

Jesus, they were both red in the face and shouting at each other.

"Oh, please," Rodney sneered, "I know guys like you, it's pathetically predictable. I'd rather deal with the Neanderthals like Bates than the heroes who suddenly feel guilty."

Fury bloomed, completely out of bounds and incandescent. "You don't know one fucking thing about me!" John roared. "Not one!"

"Believe me, I do, Major!" Rodney's voice was deadly. "Basically decent underneath their shitty games, and with rudimentary consciences, or maybe they have girlfriends who are trying to humanize them, so it's treat the geek like he's human, honey, or you won't get any nookie tonight, and all of a sudden, the same guy who shoved you into a locker or tripped you in the hallway is trying to make it up to you. Let me tell you, I've got no use for your guilt or your making amends, so just carry your own actions and get the hell out of my face."

"That's not what I'm doing!" John really was shouting and his vision was had taken on a red tinge.

Rodney's mouth curved downward in something too damned close to a sneer. "Really? You expect me to believe that this is all about seeing me with an anaphylactic reaction to the a fucking insect string and how our 'friendship' is so important that you want to fix it? Please, Major, I'm not that credulous."

"Our friendship," John began and then he heard Rodney's scorn, and saw Rodney's disbelief.

Rodney had lumped him in with the kinds of shitheads he hated, and then his stomach clenched because yeah, he'd fit in with those guys a lot of the time, just playing the part and the guilt from that just tripped that hair-trigger and that was it, he punched Rodney hard enough to knock him back and then again, and then he raised his fist to punch Rodney the third time and Ford was hanging on to him and yelling at him.

The red haze cleared and John saw Rodney sitting on the ground, holding his hand to his face while Teyla knelt beside him, her expression appalled.

"Major!" Ford shouted once. "What the hell are you doing?"

What the hell had he been doing, John wondered, horrified and shaking from too much adrenaline. He took a deep breath and stepped back, looked at Ford and saw…God, shock and something that looked a helluva lot like disappointment. "I don't know," he said roughly and then, "God, Rodney, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened?"

Rodney lowered his hand and his mouth was bloody; he gave John a look that could only be described as contemptuous. "Never mind, Major, I'm sure I provoked you." He got up, steadied by Teyla, and went back to his work.

John felt sick anyway, and that look cut right to what he'd have called his soul. "Ford, you stay here with McKay, I'm relieving myself of duty and heading back to the jumper."

Ford nodded, his eyes still shocked, but his jaw already setting.

"And putting myself under arrest," John added rustily and turned before he had to look at Teyla again.

He wasn't sure how he'd managed to lose control like that, but he'd fucked up. Again. Badly. So damned badly.

The flight back was subdued. John doubted that Rodney had discussed it with anyone, and Ford and Teyla wouldn't, but it was clear that the rest of the team detected the tension because there was almost no conversation and Rodney sat in the back of the jumper with the rest of the scientists.

The debriefing was, well, no damn fun.

Weir took one look at Rodney and said, "Dr. McKay, what happened to you, you're bleeding?"

John looked, saw Rodney's split lip had re-opened and opened his mouth to confess his sins.

"I fell," Rodney said and wiped his mouth with a folded tissue. "It just doesn't want to stop bleeding."

John's stomach rolled over and tied itself into a knot. "That's not true," he said roughly, "I lost my temper and hit him."

The briefing room went silent. Weir's expression was as shocked as Ford's had been.

Rodney cleared his throat. "It wasn't precisely the Major's fault. The level of ionization in the air was extraordinarily high, high enough to seriously affect our behavior, and I provoked him."

Weir looked around the table. "And yet no one else seems to have been affected."

"I was extremely irritable," Zelenka offered and Rodney shot him a grateful look.

A few of the others murmured agreement, but John was pretty sure it was scientific solidarity. Maybe not, though; he found the space to hope that Rodney was telling the truth and maybe they hadn't exactly been in their right minds.

"As I said, I also was guilty of provoking him," Rodney said acidly, avoiding Weir's eyes.

"Did you hit the Major?" Weir asked pointedly and looked at John. "It doesn't look that way."

"No, of course not," Rodney said impatiently. "Lt. Ford and Teyla arrived in time to, er, sort things out."

Weir stared at Rodney. "I'd like you to report to the infirmary, please. Major, until I sort this out, please confine yourself to your quarters."

John's face went hot, and while a lot of it was shame, there was a little underlying temper at the way he'd just been undercut in front of his team. Which he deserved, he thought immediately. "Yes, ma'am," he said crisply and got up.

He left the briefing room and heard Rodney's voice raised once the door had closed behind him.

Once in his quarters, John's temper cooled. Weir had a right, he had obviously been compromised somehow, because he wasn't prone to punching his friends out. What sucked the worst was remembering Rodney's expression. If the ionization had been affecting them, well, maybe that was what had gotten Rodney stirred up, too, but it didn't help remembering that he'd punched Rodney twice, he was lucky he hadn't really hurt Rodney, and he felt like shit about the fact that anything, ionization or irritation or whatthefuckever, could make him try.

After a while, even misery didn't keep John from dozing, and he woke when someone knocked. Half-hoping it was Rodney, he got up and opened it, but it was Weir.

"Oh, uh, come on in." He backed up a little.

Weir shook her head. "No, that's all right. I wanted to apologize, I didn't handle that well, and I should have taken it private immediately." Her gaze was direct.

"You should have," John agreed, "But I opened the subject for discussion, so I don't blame you."

"Rodney insists that you were both affected by the ionization and Dr. Zelenka makes a credible backup argument, so obviously, I'm not going to keep you confined to quarters. I am going to insist you report to Dr. Beckett to get cleared, however."

"Not a problem," John said and cleared his throat. "Is Rodney all right?"

Weir gave him a regretful look. "He's leaving your team."

John looked away. "Yeah, I guess it's kind of hard to trust somebody who tries to punch your lights out for no good reason."

"I told him I'd appreciate it if he waited a bit until everyone had an opportunity to cool down. I'm not sure if it will make a difference if you apologize, but if you really want him on your team, it might."

"Of course I'm going to apologize," he said, irritable again. "What the hell kind of jerk does everyone think I am?"

Weir didn't say anything, but her mouth quirked slightly. "I was just making a suggestion."

"Sorry," he muttered. "I'm just a little upset with myself."

"I understand." Her tone was sympathetic. "So, the infirmary."

"I'll go now," he said and did.

Beckett was very business-like with John, which made him feel worse, since Beckett was generally chattier and friendlier. Blood tests and a physical exam and he finally risked asking, "Is Rodney okay?"

Beckett gave him an odd look. "Bruised, a few loosened teeth, cut lip."

John winced. That explained why his knuckles were hurting, he supposed. "Damn."

Beckett apparently took pity on him. "Well, if Rodney is right, Major, you were both and neither to blame."

"Yeah, I guess." John considered that morosely for a moment. "So, we done? I need to apologize."

Beckett nodded. "Go ahead." Kind tone, after all.

It only exacerbated his guilt.

When John knocked at Rodney's door, there was a muffled response that he chose to interpret as an invitation. Still, he stood in the doorway, just in case Rodney decided he'd rather not be in his quarters alone with a lunatic.

Rodney looked more annoyed than dismayed, which he supposed he could find mildly reassuring. "Major." Shortly.

"Rodney," John said and cleared his throat. "I, uh, I'm really sorry, I don't know what happened out there, but I'm really sorry."

"So you said." Rodney regarded him coolly "I accept your apology."

A hare-brained idea blossomed. "Well, thanks, but I'm not sure that's enough."

Both Rodney's eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

"I want you to hit me."

Rodney's eyes widened to match the eyebrows. "Are you completely insane?"

"We've got to start even," John said stubbornly. "I think you need to hit me back."

"I don't hit people," Rodney said snottily.

Oy. "Well, this is your chance to take a shot. I know I annoy the hell out of you sometimes, so just think about all those times."

"I don't hit people even when they're annoying," Rodney said and now he frowned, eyes narrowed. "You really have lost your mind."

John stepped into the room, stepped closer to Rodney. "I'm serious. We need to get past this."

"We certainly don't," Rodney snapped. "I'm perfectly capable of behaving professionally without having to punch out your lights, Major. And I'm leaving the team."

"I wish you wouldn't," John said, "But I understand why you'd want to. Seriously, Rodney, I won't feel right about this, please, just hit me. You've got to want to."

"Not everyone chooses violence as crisis resolution, Major." Still snotty.

John took another step closer, almost in arm's reach. Tapped his jaw. "You know you want to."

Rodney's frown was fierce. "You really are an asshole."

John tapped his jaw again. "Right here."

Hadn't John's mother always told him to be careful what he wished for? He'd forgotten that Rodney had about twenty pounds on him, and broader shoulders, and when the blow came, it not only rattled his brain, it knocked him on his ass. It also wasn't on his jaw, which was probably just as well because he might have ended up losing a tooth.

"Ow," he said, holding his head. He was going to have a black eye to explain to Weir, dammit. The world was reeling a little and he squinted to see Rodney's alarmed expression. "You pack a helluva punch, Rodney."

"You told me to hit you," Rodney snapped, but spoiled it by crouching down, his expression worried. "Dammit. You kept telling me, I thought you were ready."

"Ow," John said again and prodded his face carefully. He thought Rodney's fist must have glanced off his cheekbone, but nothing felt broken. "M'okay."

"God." Rodney vanished, came back with a cold, wet cloth. "Put this on it, you idiot. Why the hell did you insist on this?"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," John said and put the cloth on the left side of his face. "What?"

"A good idea? I should know better than to listen to you." Rodney sounded irritated with him again, which wasn't so bad. At least it wasn't contemptuous.

"Yeah, you're probably right." John peered at Rodney with his good eye. "Rodney, what the hell happened? I thought we were friends, but ever since that whole anaphylactic shock thing, you've been mad at me."

Rodney scowled. "Oh, don't start that again, please."

"Sue me, seeing it is different than knowing it could happen," John snapped. "Scared the hell out of me."

"Exactly," Rodney snapped back. "I don't need your pity."

"Pity?" John couldn't believe it. "Is that what you think? I don't think   
I'm the only idiot in this room, you asshole."

For the first time, Rodney looked uncertain. "Oh, please, Major." Still snarky.

"Oh, fuck off." John felt miserable and angry and really, if he tried to talk about it, he might just take another swing at Rodney. He really had thought they were friends. "I didn't feel sorry for you, you asshole. I was worried. As you're so fond of reminding us, you're the best mind on Atlantis, and I somehow got the impression we were friends, so yeah, I was worried about something happening to you." He pushed himself up from the floor. "You want off the team, fine. But I want recommendations for your replacement from *you*, not Weir."

Rodney rose with him. "Major," he said, and now his voice was a little uncertain. "You really ought to see Beckett."

"And how the hell am I going to explain this?" John handed the cloth back to Rodney. "I'm in enough trouble with Weir as it is, ionization aside. I can't wait to try and explain that I thought this might get our friendship back on track." His chest hurt and he turned to leave.

"Major," Rodney said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," John said, "Me, too."

Back in his quarters, John wasn't sure why it should make him feel so miserable, or maybe he didn't want to figure out why it made him so miserable.

Rodney could make him crazy sometimes, he was always wound up, always a little on the high strung side, but he was…he was Rodney McKay. He was the man who'd first thought of using the jumper on that first rescue mission. He was the guy who had, despite being scared to death, put on that damn personal shield and gone into the energy sucking darkness to make sure the thing followed the generator through the gate. He was the guy who, despite being threatened and tortured, had stepped in front of a bullet for Elizabeth Weir, who had managed to outthink and bluff Kolya every damn step of the way despite being wet and cold and scared and miserable and convinced of certain doom all the way. He was the guy who had come out with a fucking handgun to try and cover John's ass against the Superwraith, who was so unused to using one he'd had to ask John what to do when he ran out of bullets.

He took a shower, examined his face dolefully in the mirror. Rodney McKay was also a guy with one helluva punch. His left eye wasn't totally closed up but it was swollen and turning some interesting colors. It was going to be hard for anyone to miss noticing.

Sighing, John pulled on sweats and stretched out on his bed. He sure as hell wasn't up to discussing this with Weir tonight; he'd brave her wrath in the morning. With any luck, he could keep Rodney out of trouble, and it would fall on his own head. Hell if he didn't deserve it.

He rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes. He guessed he couldn't fix something if it hadn't ever worked to begin with, and that's sort of what this looked like at this point. Which made him feel a lot more miserable than it should have; he wasn't eight years old, for God's sake, he was an adult, he'd dealt with all kinds of people in his career and whatever Rodney might think, there had been plenty who hadn't liked him much.

Trouble was, John hadn't liked them, and so it had been okay.

He rolled onto his left side, decided that was a bad idea because it hurt and sat up, thinking longingly of aspirin or Tylenol or ibuprofen. He didn't think he had any in his quarters at the moment and going to the infirmary wasn't an acceptable option at the moment. Ford, though, Ford was a good kid, he could check with Ford and Ford wouldn't rat him out. Ford might even think he deserved it, and wouldn't rat Rodney out either. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and his door opened.

Rodney stood there, his expression tentative, and he was carrying a cold pack, and, hilariously, a small bottle of what looked like either Tylenol or ibuprofen, John couldn't tell from where he was sitting.

"Knock much?" he muttered, but his heart wasn't in it. No, not at all; he was absurdly glad to see Rodney.

"I thought you might need these," Rodney said and came in.

John took the cold pack and held it to his face. "Thanks."

Rodney glanced around. "You have a cup in here?"

"Bathroom." John lifted his chin in the direction of the door.

Rodney sighed and went there.

God. He was ridiculously, insane glad to see Rodney. That was sort of frightening, or at least the intensity of it was. And unsettling. And…

Well, hell.

Rodney came back then, tablets in one hand, cup in the other. "Here."

He nodded and took the tablets, popped them into his mouth and took the cup, washed them down. "Thanks."

Rodney nodded, pulled the chair over, and sat down. "I may have overreacted."

John nodded. "Yeah." But then, because he did want to be fair in spite of startling epiphanies, he said, "Maybe I was a jerk. But I wasn't trying to be a jerk. I was just trying to look out for you."

Rodney shrugged, nodded, and shook his head. "You weren't being a jerk," he muttered. "I can see that now."

"Really?" John's spirits lifted further. "Good." One of the things he'd always liked best about Rodney was his generosity, even if most people didn't notice it. For all his show of arrogance, if Rodney was wrong, he admitted it, and more, he gave the other party credit for being right. In fact, if Rodney even *thought* he was wrong, he admitted it.

John couldn't say that about himself all the time, for God's sake.

Rodney looked at a point just past John's shoulder. "So, I'll, uh, talk to Elizabeth."

"About this? Nah, that's all right, I'm a big boy, I can take care of it."

Rodney's gaze didn't shift. "I meant, uh, about staying on the team."

"Oh." John cleared his throat. "Good. I'm, uh, glad."

'You really don't have to worry about the whole, uh, allergy thing so much," Rodney said, still not looking at him. "I can handle it, as long as I don't lose the damn Epipen again. And Teyla keeps the extra for me. I've handled it for years, Major."  
]  
John waved the cold pack. "You know, Rodney, you could call me John. My friends call me John. At least when we're not on duty."

Rodney's gaze finally moved to him. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," he told John.

"Okay," John told him quickly. "No problem."

"We *are* friends," Rodney said earnestly. "But the next thing you know,   
I'd be calling you John on missions and that might undermine your authority because, you know, Teyla and Ford both call your by your rank, and for that matter, so does everyone else, including Elizabeth, except when you're being drained by a Wraith insect."

"It's okay," John said, wondering if he took the cold pack away and tried to look pitiful, he could escape this conversation and concentrate on having a post-uninvited epiphany nervous breakdown for the rest of the night. "Really, it is."

Rodney stood up. "Okay, good. So, uh, we're okay, and I'll talk to Elizabeth tomorrow."

"Okay," John agreed. "Great. That's great. I'm, um, really glad you changed your mind. And thanks for the, uh." He gestured with the cold pack again.

"You're welcome." Rodney nodded once and left.

John couldn't help feeling a little sad after that.

 

Weir, of course, chewed them both out for being idiots. Not too seriously, because John and Rodney were shoulder to shoulder, agreeing with each other, and apparently both relieved to be working together again.

John figured that earned them some slack, at least in Weir's mind. He'd pummeled his epiphany into submission, at least, so he was reasonably certain he could behave normally around Rodney and just be glad Rodney was speaking to him. Really speaking to him,

Thus, on their next mission, back to the planet of the not-naquadah, John was happily taking point and listening to Rodney chatter on about the not-naquadah and refining it and how much power it would generate—evidently not as much as a ZPM, but more than their current supplies of naquadah—once they did some refitting of the generators.

That was just fine with John. It was better than fine. It was normal, it was fun, and he could get a rise out of Rodney when he demanded the summary the next time Rodney paused for breath.

Between John, Ford and Teyla, Rodney had been doused with enough insect repellent that he claimed irritably that any more would be carcinogenic and they should leave him the hell alone before he shot one of them with intent to maim.

The rest of the science team in the back apparently thought this was funny until Ford said, "Better watch out, sir, he's getting damn good marksmanship scores lately."

John had hastily stowed the repellent in his vest and that had sobered the science geeks right up. Rodney had noticed this and rolled his eyes at John, but his mouth had twitched, so John knew he'd been amused anyway.

So, John was happy, Rodney was happy and any minute now, he'd take a breath and John could demand that summary, allowing Rodney to be snarky and smart-ass and they'd both still be happy.

He was pathetic, really he was, but hell, he'd take what he could get.

He shoved some berry-laden branches out of the way and ended up with a handful of overripe fruit dripping down his sleeve in a decidedly slimy way and a thorn or something digging into the pad of his thumb. "Ow, dammit."

"Ow?" Rodney came around the bush safely and stood next to John, his gaze sharp. "What happened?"

"Just a thorn or something." John He grimaced, wiped his hand on his pant leg, and examined his thumb. "Yeah, a thorn." He pulled the damn thing out of his thumb. "Just a little one," he assured Rodney, "I'm not bleeding or anything."

Rodney peered at the thorn, then at his thumb. "Well, a little," he pointed out.

John stuck his thumb in his mouth, sucked the blood off. "Not any more." He held his thumb out.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh, that was smart."

"Plants aren't venomous," John said patiently.

"On Earth," Rodney corrected. "Plants aren't venomous on Earth."

"Well, I feel fine," John said, although actually, now that he said it, he wasn't sure Rodney wasn't right. He'd had some of that juice on his thumb, too. "On the other hand, you have a point. The berries could be poisonous."

"Now, he thinks," Rodney told the heavens. "How are you feeling?"

John sounded himself. "Fine."

Rodney frowned at him. "Are you sure?"

"Are you trying to psych me into thinking I'm not?" John mock-frowned.

"You look okay so far," Rodney said critically. "And no, I'm not."

"Then lets go," John said. "Find that other patch of the stuff."

Rodney rolled his eyes, but he came along peacefully.

John had to put his sunglasses back on as the trees thinned out; his thumb, for all that the thorn had been so small, was starting to throb painfully, and it bugged him, but it hardly seemed worth stopping when they were so close.

"Here," Rodney said suddenly, at the crest of a small hill. "Right underneath us." He beamed at the scanner. "This is it."

"Great," John said and took out the little flag with the transponder in the shaft. "We'll mark the spot." He shoved the shaft into the dirt and stood up again, swayed a little dizzily. "Whoa."

Rodney looked up from the scanner and his brows drew together. "John?"

"Uh, maybe the berries were poisonous," John said dizzily, and it was hard to swallow. His mouth felt weird. "Or something. I feel sort of weird. We better head back."

"Jesus, John," Rodney said and he seemed to be very far away.

It was hard to breathe. Fuck, everything they'd been through, John was going to die because of alien berry juice on his thumb.

Rodney was shouting at him, he thought and then something stung him, hot and sharp, in the thigh and Rodney was holding on to him. He might have greyed out a little for a minute, but then he was wide-awake, his heart pounding like a son of a bitch, and he was shaking like crazy.

He was lying across Rodney's lap, staring up into Rodney's very worried face. It felt like his heart was fast dancing hard enough to bang against his ribs. "You weren't poisoned, you idiot, you're allergic!" Rodney's tone was accusing.

"I'm not allergic to anything," John protested weakly.

"You are now," Rodney said grimly. "I hope to hell I'm not, I've been mauling you and got that crap on my hands."

"Got 'nother Epipen in my vest," John told him and tried to sit up.

"You what?" Rodney looked at him, frowned ferociously. "You are the most annoying human being in the entire Pegasus galaxy, John , dammit." And then, astonishingly, Rodney hugged him hard.

Okay, John's heart was hammering, he was shaking, he itched unmercifully, and his mouth and throat still felt weird and he was sure he was sporting what had to be the world's stupidest grin. Maybe the stupidest grin in the entire Pegasus galaxy. He hugged Rodney back shakily, let go when he heard Ford shout.

"M'okay, no panic," John told Ford when Ford got there. "Probably oughta get back, though, see the doc."

"I'll say," Rodney said, and it was just as snarky as ever. "I told you it wasn't smart to put your thumb in your mouth."

"After I did it," John retorted, but grinned at Rodney. "So, uh, thanks." Then he had to let them help him up because he was really shaky.

It seemed wisest, given Rodney's scowl, to let Rodney fly back and keep the backseat driving to a minimum, but Rodney did great, and then they were back and just like with Rodney's episode, Beckett met them in the bay, and he got wheeled off with his team members following.

Rodney kept scowling, but John didn't mind. He was the most annoying person in the Pegasus galaxy and Rodney had hugged him.

Pretty fiercely, too.

So he submitted to being confined to the infirmary overnight meekly enough, let Rodney berate him again for sucking the blood off his thumb, let Beckett take enough blood tests for any three vampires, had to have his thumb disinfected and excised and bandaged, and beamed stupidly at Rodney whenever they were even close to being alone.

After a while, Rodney started to look disconcerted by this and fled. That was unsettling, but with the load of antihistamine Beckett had dumped on him, John was in no shape to go after him until Beckett cut him loose the next morning.

John went to his own quarters first, showered and shaved and dressed in clean, un-berry juiced clothing. Then, in a leisurely sort of not to be detected way, he went in search of Rodney. He had no idea what, if anything, he intended to say, but maybe he'd just say thanks again and pester Rodney. Or, if Rodney wasn't scowling any more, maybe he'd just hang out with Rodney.

His heart was thumping a little fast when he finally tracked Rodney down in one of the labs. Rodney was working alone.

"Shouldn't you be in the infirmary?" Rodney snapped at him without even a hello.

"Nope." John smiled sunnily. "Doc says I'm good. I was lucky, I didn't have that second reaction thing like you did."

"Oh. Good." Rodney looked back at whatever he'd been doing. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," John said. He was beginning to understand Rodney, maybe just a little, and wasn't it about fucking time?

Rodney had scared him, he'd scared Rodney. Rodney had hugged him, and now Rodney was embarrassed. Maybe about the crabbiness, too. "Just wondered what you were doing."

"I'm working," Rodney said shortly.

"Anything fun?" John came over to stand next to Rodney. "Anything interesting?"

Rodney gave him an exasperated look. "You aren't going to leave are you?"

"You hugged me," John said mildly. "I liked it."

Rodney gave him a long, not quite incredulous look. "You really are insane."

John shrugged. "Maybe." He smiled sunnily again. "Maybe I just like really smart, insanely irritable Canadian physicists. We all have our, you know, preferences."

Rodney frowned at him. "Maybe it's escaped your notice, but I'm male."

"Yeah, I know, I've seen you in the head," John said and smirked at Rodney's irritated expression for a moment before beginning to worry. "Look, I'm not totally coming on to you, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"John, you really are the most annoying person in the Pegasus and the Milky Way galaxies," Rodney told him and whoa, Rodney kissed him.

Thoroughly.

Wow. Being the most annoying person in two galaxies had payoffs, apparently, because Rodney could kiss like nobody's business, and John backed Rodney up against the lab table and kissed him back very thoroughly.

Very thoroughly.

"You're still very annoying," Rodney said, when John released him. "Very annoying." But he licked his lips like he was tasting John.

"Cool," John said. He suspected he had that stupid smile on his face again. "But you like me anyway, right?"

Rodney just kissed him again.

Definite payoffs.

Rodney's hands were clamped to his ass and that was amazingly nice, too. Rodney's erection was hard against his and that felt…infuckingcredible.

John wondered what would happen if they ended up going to another galaxy and hoped he'd end up being the most annoying person there, too. At least in Rodney's view.

A man could hope.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
 


End file.
